There’s No Match I Can’t Make!

In my previous life, I was a ruthless female tycoon who dominated the business world. After a scumbag schemed to marry me for my inheritance, I sent him and his mistress's whole family straight to hell. With my revenge complete, I sat in a pool of blood and looked up the detention center's menu: boiled cabbage with steamed corn bread.

“The food's so bad even dogs won't eat it.” Unwilling to suffer in prison, I promptly took my own life.

When I opened my eyes again, I'd transmigrated back to the 1980s, as a penniless, shameless matchmaker. A marriage brokerage business? As long as the commission was good, my modern-day sales champion's “perfectly legal deception” tactics could take me anywhere:

The man has prostate problems and needs to pee all the time?

I tell the woman, “He's a real night watchman, getting up every night to check on things!”

The woman has severe body odor, enough to knock a bull unconscious?

I tell the man, “She's beautiful and fresh-faced, and she has a special ‘scent’ no one else has!”

The man raises bees deep in the mountains?

I lower my voice. “He's a big-time businessman with over ten thousand employees. Room and board are covered, and they don't even ask for wages!”

The woman is a wanted serial killer?

I set the blind date at the police station, with an undercover officer sitting across from her. “Don't worry, she's got crowds of people chasing after her, every last one in uniform and driving a police car!”

In the end, the fugitive is caught. I pocket the matchmaker's red envelope with one hand and the police reward with the other, collecting a cut from both sides.

In this simple, honest era, I treat marriage like a high-risk merger and acquire clients like crazy. Watching the lines of single men and women, I crack sunflower seeds and grin like a bodhisattva. “Don't be afraid. Once you come through my door, there's no one Hu Qiaozui can't find a match for!”